


Winter

by PointPalin



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, Heartbreak, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:18:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PointPalin/pseuds/PointPalin
Summary: Spring comes to an end. Winter begins.~~Author here.So I promised a heartbreaking companion piece to previously written Spring. We've gone from super lovely sweet fluff to painful, heartbreaking angst. Hope you all enjoy ❤~~





	1. Winter

Blue eyes gazed quietly out of fogged, condensated windows, warm breath casting gentle clouds of steam onto cold panes. Figures talked idly, drunkenly, yet quietly, a soft background hum as the bus they were currently sat upon made its journey through frozen, empty streets.

The blonde sat quietly, surveying the dark, empty streets from the safety of the dim, warm bus, feeling hazy from what the evening had brought with it. There had been alcohol, lots of it, drugs, and skin. Lots of skin. Euphoria, pleasure. What an evening it had been. But as the haze began to fade, along with it came the cold. The anxiety. The guilt.

Because how else can you feel when sunshine isn't enough and Summer fades away?

It wasn't supposed to happen like this, really, if at all. After the show had ended, they had all gone their separate ways, and different projects had come and gone.

Michael was away. A lot. He'd gone travelling for long extended periods of time which, frankly, were far too long for Graham's liking. But he’d be damned if he was going to ruin these experiences for Michael, so he’d found his own ways of dealing with the heartache of having to say constant farewells to his lover. His one crutch was alcohol, and that usually led to stupid encounters, many of which had been sexual. He'd drink to forget the heartache, end up having sex to forget how much he missed Michael's body next to his, and then continue to drink to then forget the guilt of having betrayed him. It was an endless and vicious circle. A circle which, unknown to Graham, was soon to come to an end.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the slight jolt and gentle rattle of the bus coming to a stop. He managed to gather his thoughts enough to realise it had come to a halt where he’d needed to get off so, dragging himself from his seat, his mind and vision still swimming slightly, he stumbled through the haze, making it from the bus without even realising. It was bitterly cold. The flat was only a few meters up the road, but the frost, which had began to settle on the ground, was making it especially tricky to navigate, for any body, let alone somebody as buzzed as Graham was currently. His thoughts wandered to why he hadn't decided to call a taxi, but then again, he didn’t even know what time it was. It was still very dark, and for the frost to be settling already, he figured it must have been very early morning.

He staggered, taking a moment before clumsily clutching at the banister, making his way up the stairs as carefully as he could in his state. Leaning against the wall once he’d reached the top of the stairs, he let out a frustrated sigh, digging around in his pockets for his keys. Once he'd found them, he jammed them roughly into the lock, admittedly, after a few attempts. But that was when he stopped.

Michael always phoned him a few hours before he was due to come home. It was a tradition they always had. No matter how late it would be, he'd always let his partner know in advance when he would be returning. Graham had planned his escapades around this fact, only this time, the door was already unlocked. He felt himself sober up instantly, the panic beginning to rise in his chest and the dull thudding already beginning to stab at his temples when he creaked the door open as carefully as he could and spotted the unmistakable khaki satchel hung up by the door. Michael was home.

"...Michael!?” Graham called softly, his voice sounding slightly slurred to his own ears. There was no response. He could feel his heart beginning to pound so loudly, eventually it was all he could hear in his ears as he shut the door behind him. No lights had been turned on in the hallway at all, just a thin beam was visible beneath the gap of the living room door. He swallowed hard. Perhaps he was asleep?

He took a deep breath, feeling the nausea rise in his throat. He couldn't tell if it was the after effects of the alcohol, or if it was the fact that deep down, he knew, that he'd been caught. He pressed his hand to the living room door, still attempting to be quiet, on the off chance that Michael had just forgotten to call him and had gone straight to sleep. But he knew. Deep down he knew, he’d gotten away with it for far too long and now, his luck had ran out.

Pushing the door open, he felt his heart begin to hammer even harder. A silhouette was sat, quietly, in his favourite, leather armchair, which had been turned towards the window. Graham felt his stomach flip at the realisation that his journey into the house had been watched. It was also then, he seemed to realise, through the dull thumping in his head and a horrendous wave of nausea, that perhaps, Michael had known for a while.

There was silence, only for about 5 minutes but it felt like hours before Michael had slowly turned around. In the dim light, Graham could just about make out his face, his heart sinking upon noticing that, for once, he couldn't read his expression. Michael was known for wearing his heart on his sleeve, and every emotion he felt was plastered on each expression he made, but now. Unreadable.

“Had a nice evening?”

The tone was cold. Graham wished he had stayed outside. The bitter cold he had felt was nothing compared to the chill that seemed to permeate the room. Michael tilted his head slowly as he regarded the taller man, his brown eyes surprisingly cool despite the warmth of the dim light.

“Usually when somebody asks a question, Graham, you answer it.”

“Michael, I-"

“Did you have a nice evening?”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~Second part is up.
> 
> Hoo wee, this was painful to write. I sort of didn't know how to finish it, so I've left it as is. If you would like to see me make some sort of conclusion, please let me know, but for now I'm leaving it.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy. As much as you can with angst anyway. Xx~~

Graham swallowed hard, his blue eyes beginning to sting as he tried to centre himself. He knew the alcohol in his system probably wasn't helping much at all, with how sick he was feeling, but at the same time, he couldn’t seem to work out if that was just from the drink in his system or from the guilt he was currently drowning in. Michael knew. And he'd known for some time, which made things so much worse.

“I don’t think I need to answer that...really.”

“True......I think I already know the answer to most of the questions I'm about to ask but.....well. I figure I'm owed the truth.....don’t you?”

It was only then when Graham nodded and stepped a bit closer, apprehensively, much like a child being scolded would, that he could see Michael's eyes better and the guilt stabbed at him again. Those warm, beautiful brown eyes he'd fallen in love with were now cold, and filling with tears he was trying to keep at bay.

Graham couldn't find his voice. It was all his fault. Michael was the one person who he cared about, more than anybody else, certainly more than himself, but his own insecurities had pushed him away and created this mess. There was silence for some time. It was as if Michael was waiting for him to say something, but nothing Graham said could fix what had been broken for a while. And then Michael spoke once more. And it was a phrase that made an uncomfortable shiver soar through Graham's whole being, hot tears stinging at the corners of his eyes as his heart sank in his chest.

“You were my Spring.”

“Michael...I'm so sorry...” Graham sniffled, tears now flooding his cheeks as he clumsily rubbed at his nose. Sorry. It was a pathetic phrase, something that couldn't even encompass just how Graham felt, yet was the one word he could think of.

“You're not sorry it happened. You're sorry you got caught.” Michael replied before he pushed himself from his chair, trying to regain his composure again, pressing his hand out to rest on the window sill. “Honestly....if I hadn't stopped you...it would have carried on......wouldn't it Graham?”

“Yes.” Graham replied, albeit apprehensively. He knew that confession probably hurt Michael more than what he was suffering already, from the way his strong shoulders dropped and his whole being seemed to just give up. Another sharp stab of guilt shot through Graham's chest. “I...I didn't want to stop you...I didn't want to stop you from experiencing all of these amazing things.....so I let you go and I.. I filled the void...by...getting drunk most nights and doing stupid...stupid things-"

“Please. Please...” Michael held up his hand to stop Graham in his tracks, unable to even look him in the eye. “Please.....don't proclaim to have done this out of some twisted love for me....because that is...that is fucking insulting.”

“Michael-"

“You. Were. My. Spring.” Michael repeated again, this time turning to face Graham, the hurt now fully evident on his face as his voice cracked from trying to keep his emotions contained. “It wasn't the travelling that made me feel alive Graham, it was you. I could have given all of that up because all I needed was you...why did you not just talk to me? Was it that hard?”

Michael's expression was pleading now. He clearly wanted answers, something more than what Graham was giving him, but he knew he wouldn't get anything else. He looked frustrated, confused and above all else, hurt and broken beyond belief. Graham just wanted to wrap him in his arms and hold him, but he knew his chance for doing that was long gone.

He wanted him to shout. To go ballistic, to maybe throw things, or throw a punch even. Something. Anything. But he didn't. His tone was quiet and he looked so utterly defeated, and that hurt more than anything possibly could. Graham swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart physically hurting as he watched a tear roll down the other man's cheek.

“Was I worth that little to you? Because if you had fallen out of love me with me, I could have understood...but this.....When I used to look at you, I could feel flowers blossoming in my chest and sunshine growing in my soul. But all there is now is...just....snow.” Michael let out a sigh, a pained, shaky, tired sigh before he rubbed at his eyes, his lip trembling as he tried to hold everything together. “And it's cold...I want to feel something growing...I want to but there's a big empty space and everything in it is dead..”

He paused, swallowing hard and clenching his jaw as fresh tears left trails down his cheeks, like scars. When he lifted his eyes to meet Graham's, there wasnt that warm smile, where his eyes crinkled at the edges and shone with glorious mischief. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, which now looked drained and more a shade of grey than the warm hazel they were. There was no trace of a smile of his lips, just faint lines at the edges of his mouth, scars left from happy memories. He gazed at Graham, his expression one of complete heartbreak as he finally muttered. “....When did you become Winter?”

It was in that moment that Graham finally felt the remains of his heart shatter all at once. It was devastating and brutal. That feeling in his chest, was as if a shard of ice had impaled him, straight through the heart, the shivers that struck his being, shockwaves of pain. He had frozen completely, stuck in the guilt of what he'd done, unable to say a word because what could he say? Spring was gone, and what came with Winter was the unreletening cold.

“What can I say?” Graham started. The alcohol seemed to have finally left his system, the nausea hitting him full on once his brain had realised just how severe the situation was. Michael sank back down onto his chair, his body crumpling against the comforting leather. Even when on the verge of being extinguished, his light never seemed to fade. He radiated kindness and comfort, even when he was falling apart on the inside.

“You you don't need to say anything.” His reply was soft, like a whisper. Even when the light seemed almost drained, he still shone comfort and compassion to those his rays touched. He was trying to comfort Graham, even now. He would never stop being Summer. 

“Just...I don't know, Gray. Take some aspirin...have some water and get yourself to bed.”

“No..We need to sort this out.”

“Graham....please...all I'm doing is talking. As always. That's how we got into this situation in the first place...because you didn't talk. Let's just wait until you're completely sober because....frankly, I'm bloody tired.”

“I'm talking now! Please...I want to sort this out-"

“Sort what out? What part of this can we sort?” Michael asked, and this time his voice broke and he finally folded. He sniffed, a whimper of a cry escaping his lips as he pushed his hand to his eyes, his strength finally giving way. “There's nothing to save.”

Within a second, Graham had shot over to the chair and pulled the other man into his arms. He felt him struggle briefly against him, his fists connecting with Graham’s chest to try and push him back before he sank in his arms, uncontrollable sobs now escaping his mouth. Graham could feel the warm tears soaking through the material of his shirt as the other man cried, and although he was probably the last person Michael probably wanted to see, he held him as tightly as he could.


End file.
